Unspoken
by sakura0617
Summary: Chihiro pays a visit to the Spirit world. "She saw the pink of Lin's work clothes, a shockingly skinnier Boh (Chihiro inwardly applauded the baby for taking charge, she was proud to see him in a determined gait), the spirits of the bathhouse, and yellow and white, flags, steam, and masks."


_- Unspoken -_

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**_~ And so Dragons are guardians, of rivers, of trees. They are the final symbol of peace. ~_**

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A soft sigh escaped into the slightly dense air, spilling out into the muffled silence and soft mutterings of the motor. The smell of sea salt drifted lazily by, and a figure sat at rest lulled by the hypnotic shivers of the hazy ghost train. The figure was clad in a pair of familiar pink shorts and green stripes. A light, jarring motion awoke the slumbering girl, as warmth slowly seeped back into startled sluggish limbs.

Chihiro cautiously opened her eyes, her vision washed over by the blur of shapes and shadows. Confusion, fuzzy and indistinct like the lens of a camera momentarily swept over the woman, but quickly came into focus as recognition took ahold. The once young girl was retracing her steps, every turn of the wheel taking her closer to the witch Zeniba. Wrapped in the warmth of long held nostalgia and the endless stretch of empty sapphire waters the girl felt familiar sensations emerging from the faded corners of her memory. The long train ride, once again invoked a still remembrance, the feeling of quiet hope tinged in the taste of forlorn solitude, a pale white color painted over the muted glow of content. And a flash of ruby red beads admist russet locks cut through the air, with a wicked glint.

The sky around Chihiro darkened imperceptibly until the synthetic lights of the spirit world cast enigmatic patterns across dark orbs, revealing unfathomable wisdom beyond years. Silence enveloped the train tracks in an utter void, a dense bubble of black penetrating in the ringing stillness. Then the sudden announcement for the sixth stop threaded through the stifled compartment indicating the arrival at Swamp Bottom. It seemed to come slowly, then all at once, much like falling into a deep slumber.

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Chihiro watched as the faint ring of light swung back and forth in a hypnotic dance among the rasps and groans of the enchanted lamp's soothing breath. The familiar sound refused to loosen their grip on her, riding out the small ripples of past imagery and sound. The woman remained in the care of her memories, until the path before her turned soft and golden. In an instant auburn eyes shut tight, assaulted by a wave of indiscernible pulses, or perhaps emotions, colliding through the air. After a silent pause, the smell of comfort, a warm hearth and the sweet sting of tears that threatened, was the first to emerge. And the tenor of Chihiro's thoughts gained a direction, the tips of her fingers tingled, the pressure of the ground became sharp.

Chihiro opened her eyes and saw black, misty and swirling, slightly transparent but only enough to be a slippery slime. Then looking upwards into the painted mask of No-Face a breathy exclamation stole its way through her lips. Sharp moonlight had cast a silver crest over the enigmatic form of the spirit, a light flush of serenity on its solitary face, a shadow of contentment. After a light pinch, Chihiro sheepishly agreed that even her imagination could not manage to flesh things out so fully. So she was held in the solid grip of reassurance. With that, the fear that had accompanied her thus far simmered, silver sparks danced around its edges, and vanished into dying space. It was enough to know that the fabric of reality she had been walking upon was not conjured by her delirium.

No-Face uttered a greeting, "Ah-ahhh" and a soft string of gestures indicated for Chihiro to follow. It felt to the girl that she was being cradled, gentle and doting was her reunion, and she knew instantly that everything to come would be just as kind. The spirit world had always slept within her, an eternally elusive companion fluttering at the farthest edge of her vision. Thus, it was only right that Chihiro's final visit should be filled with a deep and tender resonance, no room left for regrets, the way she lived her human life. Then the young girl was welcomed by a flood of light, drawn in by its warm embrace.

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The door of Zeniba's humble cottage creaked open, revealing the inner tickings of a witch's hut, which was oddly enough was no different from that of her own household. A roaring fire, just as she remembered rumbled happily in the corner, while soft puffs of smoke from the kettle circled around her enthusiastically. A weathered face mirrored Chihiro's own, and the mellow crackle of Zeniba's voice greeted her.

_"My child! How good to see you!"_

The light echo of a spinning wheel, sang gaily in the background. And Zeniba looked up from her work with a mischievous smile.

_"You haven't aged a day, unlike this old witch."_

The corners of slightly crinkled eyes formed into a wink, and the witch, modest and thoughtful, appeared no differently than when Chihiro had departed. Zeniba's simplicity was something that could not be carelessly imitated, only felt in its authenticity.

_"Sit first, you must be tired. I can see you have much to tell me. Perhaps a tad bit more than expected. But one can always make time for a cup of tea."_

Surveying her choices, Chihiro chose a friendly green armchair, which seemed to promise certain oblivion once engulfed in its velvety folds with no soon guarantee of release. But, she thought, that would suit her just fine. And the witch spoke again,

_"Now that you are settled, you seem fit to tell a tale."_

Then all at once, the mature bearing of the young girl seem to crumble, overshadowed by sudden, swift anticipation. The words that Chihiro had been holding back tumbled out, one by one, until a flurry of them fell down all around her, in urgent whispers.

_"Oh, Grandmama, it's like this - "_

So she recounted her life in the human world. Snatches of brilliant imagery flashed by one by one. A scorch of evening dusk, a dash of childish laughter, pinches of celebratory cheer, and ruby and sapphire, and copper vermilion...in the midst of the torrent of words that spilled out, Chihiro wondering vaguely whether Zeniba had sprinkled a slight spell on her after all. Her mouth paid no heed to the idea of oxygen, there was no barring back the flood.

_"There was that one time...ah yes and...I do remember..."_

Gradually her words slowed, it was a natural declining, its transition so smooth that Chihiro ended with an uttered sigh:

_"And- "_

Silence. The witch nodded gently.

_"Finished?"_

Chihiro responded with a half triumphant smile, until the moment was broken by a light tremor in the ground. The girl glanced downward, surprised to find her legs held captive by passing tremors. A side effect of a relief she did not know to feel. So a relaxed pause perched comfortably in the room until both figures were ready to speak again.

_"I believe you want to see him again?"_

The momentary break was broken by the old witch. To which Chihiro answered.

_"Yes...I want to see Kamaji..and her too...I want to see Lin! Actually there are many people I would like to see...perhaps there is enough time to for just a quick glance of everyone?"_

Per instruction, the witch took out a crystal blue bowl, hobbled over to the cooled kettle, and poured water into it. Chihiro watched as the liquid merged into a molten silver, unable to discern exactly when the change occurred (when does a chameleon turn from blue to red?), and like all magic, it was utterly unreasonable. The witch offered thanks to the kettle, the water, the bowl, and a fair number of appliances Chihiro had ruefully overlooked (she apologized to the humble ear pick), and then completed the spell. The bowl held silver scales, tethered tightly together, stretching across to hug the rim of the prism-like basin. A ripple shuddered across scaly backs until shades of black peeked through the ruffled undersides. The colors connected to form an image of round ebony spectacles, it was undoubtably the spider youkai.

Kamaji's signature mustache greeted Chihiro, fluffed as if poised for a small wave, while six sinewy limbs spun in a controlled frenzy. And for the second time Chihiro recounted bits of her life, as if the mirror were a mere cloth separating the two. She told him of the time she thought she saw a sootball scurry past her, the gleam of a konpeito candy caught her eye. Or the time an almost transparent ootori spirit seemed to wink into existence as quickly as it had vanished.

_"...but perhaps, Kamaji..I just missed the spirit world very much..."_

Whispered the girl, and beside her Zeniba looked down with a furtive, fond smile. For a moment Chihiro wondered if the witch knew, after all she hadn't mentioned him yet. But there was no time to dwell, before her images formed as quickly as it shifted scenes. The pink of Lin's work clothes, Boh was shockingly skinnier (Chihiro inwardly applauded the baby for taking charge, she was proud to see him in a determined gait), the spirits of the bathhouse, yellow, white, green, flags, steam, and masks.

Stream of color flitted back and forth, and each time Chihiro suppressed the urge to reach out. The girl could feel the swell of panic as it foamed and seethed, the pulsation intensified, sidling closer with every breath. Chihiro refused to let agitation affect her now, warmed yet again by the homely atmosphere, she breathed in the quiet smell of toasted pine and freshly gathered hay. So it was nearly time.

_"My dear are you ready?"_

Came the soft cackle of Zeniba.

_"Remember to keep the threads your friends wove together. It will protect you, wherever you are. I've prepared a nice cane and a shawl for you, I'm glad I finished it in time. Take care, dearie, until we meet again!"_

Chihiro gave the witch one last hug, and walked through the door.

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Outside Haku was waiting for her, his pearl white scales gleamed in the glow of the full moon. She broke out into an impressive run, colliding into the smooth snout of the dragon's nose.

_"I had a feeling it would be you!"_

Chihiro mumbled into his fur, as she unleashed upon him the tightest grip she possessed. Haku's eyes closed in assent, and by the time emerald orbs blinked open, the girl was scrambling onto the back of the dragon. Chihiro held on tightly as they plummeted into the air, trails of vapor teased, whistling beside her. Sheer silence soaked into the sky, fathomless and clear, and below an endless stretch of brilliant white. And suddenly it seemed, her time was boundless.

A while passed before Chihiro spoke, and when she did she filled Haku in on her reunion with Zeniba, how Kamaji and Lin and the rest were all well. The dragons ears twitched from time to time, perking when a piece of particularly interesting news came to light. Gliding across space, it seemed a black hole and they were devoured into its brilliance, there was (as you would expect) the usual razzle and dazzle, and balls of fire glaring down from a distance away working their glamour. The sky was all sorts of purple and blue, bruished, shy, bold, humble, and majestic, some demanded attention, while others dallied in the infinite field purring with sound contentment. And as they passed farther, they bid farewell to the colors of twilight welcoming the burnt umber and misty swirls of ebony and onyx. And there they remained, for what seemed to be a fairly long time, but one could never tell when submerged in disjointed, half-awareness.

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The sky never failed to sooth the white dragon, alight with the touch of unrestrained emptiness, so when did he begin to feel so fearful?

Haku knew his spell was wearing off. Pulling together the last of his reserves he shifted back into his human shell, under different circumstances it was as natural as moving his tail, a thoughtless envy. And...Haku watched as Chihiro's hair slowly lost its russet luster, turning a silver gray. He felt the leathery pressure of her hands change, weathered and worn well. He watched as her clothes morphed into a copper vermillion dress, altered here and there, worn often in the last years of her life. He recalled the night, he gave her the dress, the same evening they exchanged a lasting promise. There was a lot of celebratory cheer that day under the scorched evening dusk.

Haku had known it was time when visions of half-formed spirits lingered at the corners of Chihiro's perception. So nothing was left remaining, but a faint wish, which even now belonged to a fulfilled past. Haku looked at the delight that skipped across Chihiro's face, as he felt the last remnants of his spell scurry irrevocably into the dense atmosphere. They were so close, soon he would not be able to move.

_"Can you feel that...Haku?"_

Chihiro's whisper brought him out of his reverie. It was a grinding halt, one that refused to give in, one inch...and another, and then they were both still. Not yet? not ready? don't stop?...No? All these words, bit into his flesh, sharp, searing, scathing. But he couldn't find the words he wanted, it would not be enough, he couldn't do this on his own.

_"...by the way, Haku, Lin says you owe her three roasted newts...Haku. **Kohaku**."_

Chihiro uttered his name. And then he knew he was not alone, she would be waiting (wasn't she always?). But Chiro was determined, courageous, and so very strong (who could expect any less from someone even the local gods respected?). Haku felt the force behind her words, a surge of pink and green slivers searched, dissolving, splintering remnants of formidable ancient sorcery. The spell was being lifted, an excruciating process, slowly, carefully, it was like drawing raw poison from a sore wound.

The magic Chihiro wielded was the kind Yubaba never understood, which was why a human's hold on him could be much more potent. Haku recalled their life together, it resonated tenderly, deeply, there was no room left for regrets. It was, had always been connected by the silence of mutual understanding, here in this moment too, he knew what she did not say. So, hands parted, just like they had done once before. Chihiro did not look back, that was the rule, but gave him one last gift to hold onto.

_"I promise we will meet each other again."_

And then Haku unclenched his magic, and blue stardust fell in tears all around. The only thing that lingered was a parting thought:

_"The strongest type of love that remains is... **unspoken**."_

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**_~ What are Dragons you ask? They are the guardians of life. The escort of death. ~_**

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Author's note: So this is the longest one-shot I've written so far! Hopefully it wasn't too hard to fumble through, er I think my writing has definitely gotten more confusing than ever! And sorry if the spacing is hard to read, darn fanfic for making double space and indents so difficult!

For those who are confused...Haku cast a spell on Chihiro, allowing her to visit the spirit world, with the same appearance she had when she left, before escorting her to the afterlife. (Just so you know she died peacefully of old age)

And for those who want to know what happens afterwards (I hate feeling left in the dark too), Chihiro transferred the magic from Haku's real name (Kohaku) to Haku thus weakening his powers enough...so that he can eventually become mortal (and die of old age too). But that is how Chihiro keeps her promise to him. Haku was right in more ways than one when he said she possessed some strong magic ;D 

And lastly, please review, they give me fuel! And you will get a hug from me 3 (I welcome any and all suggestions~ Also any thoughts on a continuation?)


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